A Good Fright's Sleep
by Cabinessence
Summary: Following a distress call, the Doctor and Clara are led to a 'haunted house' where something is picking off those staying overnight. Trying to keep everyone alive and away from each others' throats turns out to be a nightmare, and the duo have their work cut out. And, of course, that's without the problem of who - or what - is the killer?
1. Chapter 1

(a/n): A brief warning; this story contains some description of gore.

-0-

Less than five minutes before she died, Diane Hayward was already regretting every life decision that had led her to this place.

She'd been driving all day, and she was utterly exhausted, yet here she was, traipsing through some awful haunted house at God-knows-what hour. Of course, it was the only place to stay for miles and she'd already nearly fallen asleep at the wheel, but the creep who owned the place rambling about how it was _sure_ to keep her up the whole night and consume her with fright hadn't exactly fill her with confidence at getting any rest. The loud smashing of glass and high-pitched whirring that had woken her up about ten minutes after she'd finally drifted off didn't help, either.

The house was full of sound effects, but that definitely lacked the tinny nature of the rest, so armed with her truncheon, she'd set off in her pyjamas to investigate. The house was extremely dark, although whether that was for atmosphere or because the owner was too cheap to pay the bills, she wasn't sure. Still, she wasn't going to let some potential intruder wreck the place. Besides, the sooner she got the house silent, the sooner she could get to the next day and see Leo again. God, she missed him.

Another high-pitched whirring sound jolted her out of her thoughts. That one was definitely close, in the room on her left, she thought. She leant with her back to the wall just next to the door, and kicked it open. "Stop! Whoever you are!" she called out.

In the dark, she could just make out a figure. It seemed to be holding some sort of grey tube, which was now pointed at her. The whirring sound started up again.

"No, wait..." she forced out, backing away too slowly. The whirring sound became louder and louder. Then, she couldn't hear anything but her own screams.

-0-

Deep in the Time Vortex, the TARDIS spun lazily, travelling nowhere in particular. Within, only a soft humming could be heard, until the relative quiet was broken by the clanging of boots on metal and an exasperated voice ringing out.

"Doctor, I have no idea _what_ you're doing down there, but since it's _apparently_ shut off every single light on the TARDIS, could you please... stop..."

Clara trailed off as, having groped her way to the console room (seemingly the only one with lights still functioning), she was greeted with the sight of the main console being near-completely disassembled. Underneath the one panel still attached, she could just spot the Doctor's legs sticking out, his coat carelessly slung over the railing nearby.

"Clara!" His familiar grey curls popped out, and he looked around for her briefly. "Sorry, just having a few... technical problems, needed the extra power."

"Problems?" she repeated nervously, head jerking slightly. "Er, what problems?" In her experience, "problems" with regards to the TARDIS usually translated to "we're about to burst like a balloon, crash into a nuclear power plant and delete Luxembourg from history."

"Now, don't get panicky or anything," he said in what she knew was supposed to sound reassuring but instead came off more as irritable. "It's just a... _little_ issue with the navigation," he added, straining to pull an unresponsive lever.

"And when you say 'a little issue,' you mean-"

"I mean we don't have any right now. Must have blown the circuit or something, I swear I've been getting better at flying her in this regeneration."

"So... Doctor, isn't having no navigation in a spaceship that's _in flight_ exactly the sort of thing I should be panicking over?" Clara asked, trying not to do just that as she hopped down the stairs to the Doctor's level.

"Oh, no, it'll be fine," he insisted, giving her a small smile. "I just need to land somewhere so she can get her bearings, but like I said, we don't have any navigation. The power boost was supposed to send us back to where we last landed, but it looks like we're stuck right now. Not that that's going to last," he added at seeing her alarmed expression. "Soon as I get something to lock onto, I can reboot the systems."

At that moment, a red light began blinking and beeping on the panel. They both stared at it for a moment. "What's that?" asked Clara.

"Distress signal. Must be beaming out to anyone nearby," the Doctor mused.

Clara gave him a look. "Well, you wanted a way to get our bearings. Can't we follow that, help whoever it is and let the TARDIS fix up while we do it?"

"Clara, this could be coming from anywhere. It could be a ship that, y'know, that's under attack by Daleks, or dissolving into soap, or something with everyone dead on board and we wouldn't know." At this, Clara snorted and began to smirk.

"Yeah, like that's ever stopped you." The Doctor gave a small smile himself, before pressing a few buttons and pulling the materialisation lever. Instantly, a shower of sparks flew back out at him and the TARDIS shook, tilting at an alarming angle. Most of the stuff strewn over the floor began to slide off the edge, and it was only Clara and the Doctor grabbing a railing and the console, respectively, that stopped them going the same way.

"What's happening?" she yelled over the din of the straining engines and continued sparks. She'd gotten used to this Doctor actually being able to fly his own ship unlike the last one, and this was an unpleasant reminder of just how uncooperative the time machine could be. The Doctor launched himself at the materialisation lever, attempting to wrestle it back to its original position.

"TARDIS doesn't like flying blind! And the signal's getting weaker! We're going off co-" The Doctor was cut off by an almighty thud and jolt, as the TARDIS landed. The pair were thrown sprawling onto the ground. Clara groaned.

"Doctor... Did we make it there?" she asked, sitting up slowly and rubbing her head to soothe the ache from where she hit the ground. He pulled himself up and looked at the scanner.

"Define 'there,'" he replied slowly. "We're in the right place, but we got here a bit late."

"How late, exactly?"

He stood up and grabbed his coat from underneath a bundle of wires. "About... a month. Maybe two," he stated. At his companion's shocked expression, he hurriedly added "The signal's still transmitting, so the ship doesn't think everyone's dead, at least."

"That's good," Clara said briskly, getting up herself. "Let's go and find whoever's asking for help. You can explain why we're late."

"I can't help it if I miss the odd repair job every few decades, you know!" he retorted as he pulled his hood over his coat. Clara scoffed, but she couldn't stave off a smile as she picked up her own jacket from the side. "Where are we, then, old girl?" he murmured.

"Uh... Yorkshire, apparently," Clara shouted back to him with her head sticking through the open door. The Doctor made his way over to her. She pointed at the sign in front of her that confirmed what she said. "And I'm gonna assume that was meant for the TARDIS. No signs of any downed spaceships though. Not even month-old ones. Can you sonic around to find it?"

"Not specifically, the link's too scattered at this point. I can scan for anything with a similar energy signature, but that'll be tricky..."

"We could always see if anyone in the big creepy house up there has seen any spaceships crashing?" Clara pointed out, nodding at said big creepy house up the road. The Doctor ignored her, however, pulling on the sonic sunglasses. Clara couldn't help but stifle a giggle at how incongruous they looked in the night.

"Alright, so I can get a general direction, which is up that way," the Doctor said, looking up in the direction Clara had pointed to earlier. "We should ask if anyone in that big creepy house has seen anything." With that he strode off without waiting for a response, taking a torch out of his pocket and flicking it on. She sighed.

"Of course we should. Great idea, Doctor," she muttered, before pulling the TARDIS door shut and jogging to follow him.

As they got closer, the dim streetlights leading up to it illuminated more and more of the building, which seemed like more of a mansion at this distance. It was imposing from afar, but nearer it seemed to have had better days, and the tacky plastic skeletons hung up in the windows didn't help. From the slight hill they were on, Clara did a full slow spin whilst walking and couldn't see a single other building other than the TARDIS for miles around. She shivered. Despite the state of the place, the sheer isolation was unnerving enough.

They were almost to the gates when they heard the screams. The two of them looked at one another, before running the final distance. The Doctor unlocked the gates and they struggled to get them open, sped to the doors and opened them just as quickly, almost hitting an astonished looking middle-aged man in the face in the process.

"Just who the hell do you think you are, breaking into my-" he began to yell, before the Doctor cut him off.

"Where was the screaming coming from?" he barked. The man stammered. "Screaming, where, now?"

"How should I know?" the man spluttered out. "This is a haunted house, people are supposed to-"

"Up here!" They all looked up the stairs in the hallway to see a woman in a nightie peering anxiously down at them. "This way, I think! Follow me!"

The Doctor and Clara quickly ran up the stairs and followed the woman around the corner, only to see her standing stock-still over something. As they got closer, the Doctor's torch illuminated her. She was shaking.

"Are... you alright?" Clara asked hesitantly as she and the Time Lord approached, until they saw what was in front of the woman. Spattered all over the corridor were chunks of flesh, and in the midst of the red mess lay a mass of bone and gristle that was barely recognisable as having once been a person.

The middle aged man was still shouting obscenities at them, but as he caught up he fell silent. "Oh my God," he breathed, turning pale.

"Clara, I think we have a problem," the Doctor murmured.

-0-

(a/n): Hello there! This is my first fic, and I'm ever-so-slightly anxious about it. I have the rest of it planned out, some areas more loosely than others, although I may change some aspects of it. At the moment, I'm hoping for a murder-mystery vibe.

In the meantime, reviews are greatly appreciated! This being my first fic and all, I would really like hear criticism on stuff you think I got wrong, and any advice you may have, especially with regards to characters and dialogue; I'd especially like to make sure the Doctor and Clara are at least reasonably in character. I mean, comments of how great it is are _also_ welcome, but any issues you have would be wonderful. Thanks for reading, and 'til the next time!


	2. Chapter 2

(a/n): Thank you so much for reading! More rambling after the chapter. ^_^

-0-

A solid thirty seconds had passed without any motion from the four (well, five) of them, before the Doctor stepped forward and crouched at the body. Clara fought off a wave of nausea as he found some latex gloves from his pocket and began examining it. She'd seen worse than this many times before, but it was never pleasant.

More as an excuse to tear her gaze away than anything else, she turned to the man behind her, still staring open-mouthed. "You were at the front desk when we came here, is this your place?" she asked, striving to sound confident. He nodded mutely in response. "What's your name?"

"Tim. Tim Hannah," he whispered, not looking away from the carcass.

"Is anyone else staying here right now?" Another nod. "Go and get them, see if they're alright. Bring them to the main entrance. Then, see if you can get some lights on around here." She nudged the woman next to her. "You go with him."

Tim, having regained some colour, gently tugged the woman away, and they slowly made their way down the corridor. Clara watched until they turned out of sight, then looked back to the Doctor, trying to avoid focusing on the body.

"Aliens, then?" was her next question, although she felt the answer was fairly obvious.

"Either that, or someone's got a very quiet bazooka," he replied curtly. "Could you hold my torch?" Clara picked it up from where he'd set it down and shone it at his hands. After all this time, it was still surreal seeing him being an _actual_ doctor.

"Can you tell what happened to them? Or anything about them?"

"Lower half of the skeleton's not in that bad a shape, so judging from that, they were probably a woman, but that's about it. Blood spatter indicates whatever it was hit her from over there," he said, nodding to his left. Clara flashed the torch in that direction, ignoring his momentary protest at having taken his source of light, and illuminated a doorway she hadn't noticed before. Through it was a bedroom, and on the floor lay a grey metal tube, with green flashing lights running down the side.

"Doctor?" she pushed hesitantly. Looking over, he took off his gloves and dropped them, entering the room and picking up the tube. "Is... that what did it?"

Before he could answer, the bedroom and corridor lit up, and they shielded their eyes at the sudden change. Tim must have gotten the lights on. Shrugging, Clara switched off the torch and shoved it into her leather jacket pocket. There was a cough from behind her, and they looked to see Tim, studiously avoiding looking at them. "Everyone's in the main hall except one."

"A woman?" the Doctor asked, poking his head out of the door.

"...yes. Hayward. Er, Diane Hayward, Officer Hayward. She was spending the night," he explained haltingly. He brought a hand to his head.

"She's not going to be coming, then," the Doctor said. Clara elbowed him and stepped towards Tim.

"I'm really sorry," she murmured in what she hoped was a consoling tone. "Let's go and see everyone, then."

-0-

Including the time travellers, nine people were present in the hall. After Tim had introduced everyone, he and Clara had explained what had happened to Diane as best they could. Everyone bar those who found the body was in various states of shock.

"But... how could that happen? What could do that to someone?" asked Frank Bennett shakily. He was around the Doctor's physical age, with his wife Mabel clinging to him tightly.

At this, the Doctor stepped forward. "That would be this," he stated, swinging the grey tube from the bedroom in the air.

"And what is 'that,' then?" snapped Alan Rodriguez, a young man who seemingly hadn't been able to keep still in the entire time Clara had seen him.

"It's a Quadroflex demolition cannon." At the blank faces surrounding him, the Doctor continued. "Basically, let's see, if I refocus the energy, I should be able to..." He pointed it at a bottle placed on the reception desk, and a thin beam of light lanced out of the tube, instantaneously drilling a small hole in the bottle, letting the water slowly trickle out onto the carpet.

"So.. a ray gun, then?" Clara inquired.

"No, it's-"

"Can you work out where the aliens were from based on the ray gun, then? I mean, I'm assuming it's the same ones we were following?" she continued. The Doctor glared at her.

"The _Quadroflex demolition cannon_ ," he emphasised heavily, and Clara stifled a grin, "is one of the most generic construction tools on this side of the galaxy. It'd be like trying to work out someone's nationality based on a Biro in their pocket."

"Er, sorry, still other people here, you know," came a voice from the stairs. Having apparently recovered from being the one to find Diane's body, Nora al-Sayed stepped forwards with her arms folded. "Other people who'd like to know why you're talking about _aliens_." True to what she said, everyone else looked just as bewildered. That was probably for the best, Clara reflected. From personal experience, confused people were _far_ easier to deal with than frightened people. Less likely to lash out.

"Well, who else has ray g-Quadroflex demolition cannons? Council workers?" the Doctor snarked. "Yes, there are aliens here, and what we need to do is find them and talk to them. See what's going on." Clara thought for a moment they were going to accept that, but then a loud outburst came from the other side of the room.

" _Talk_ to them?!" cried Alan, whose eyes seemed to be bugging out of their sockets. "They killed Diane! They're going to kill us too!"

"We don't know why they did it," Clara interjected quickly, trying to salvage the situation. "For all we know, they could have been scared, been confronted by a strange creature, panicked and tried to defend themselves. They might even be basically friendly!" she added hastily, to a scoff from Alan.

"She's right. There are plenty of friendly aliens, aren't there, Clara?" the Doctor proclaimed, giving her a big, toothy grin.

"Some of them are okay. When they're not shredding to Jimi Hendrix at three in the morning," she retorted. The Doctor looked put out, but he didn't have time to respond.

"No, no, no, no, no," a quiet voice rambled. They all looked around for the source, to see Frank holding his head in his hands.

"Are... you alright?" Tim queried hesitantly.

"I've got to go, we've got to go, we can't be here anymore!" the older man suddenly shouted. Grabbing Mabel's hand, he burst out of the front door. Clara pursued them, but they were surprisingly fast.

"No, wait!" she yelled fruitlessly behind them. "We should stay together!" Inwardly, she groaned. This was more evidence of what she meant by confused people being easier to deal with than frightened people. The latter were always more inclined to do stupid things.

By the time she caught up to them, they were in the car park, staring at an old Ford. "The tyres are slashed," Mabel whispered, barely audible.

"What?" Clara took a look at the other cars, and sure enough, there wasn't a single inflated tyre around. When she got back to the couple, Frank was visibly shaking, his frantic breath incredibly loud in the otherwise-silent night. The teacher took his hand, and he jumped slightly.

"It's okay, it's okay," she tried to reassure him in as soothing a tone as she could muster. "Come on, let's get back to the Doctor and the others."

When they got back, no-one looked particularly happy. "Cars are out of commission," Clara informed them curtly. "Tyres are slashed."

"So much for them being friendly, then," Alan muttered. She thought she detected a hint of smugness in his tone, but she wasn't sure.

"Can we call for help?" asked Nora.

"I don't think so," Tim responded despondently. "No mobile signal here, and the landline was down when I tried to use it earlier. I thought it was just on the blink, but maybe it's been cut or something."

"Okay... so... murderous alien on the loose. Well, at least it's thick, whatever it is," said the Doctor cheerily. Everyone stared at him.

"Excuse me?" Jason Ha asked blankly. Clara jumped slightly at that; the teenager, sitting next to his friend Albert Valentine, had been completely silent the whole time, and she'd honestly forgotten they were there.

"The Quadroflex demolition cannon is a construction tool," the Time Lord explained, waving his hands for emphasis. "Using it to kill someone's like attacking someone with a pneumatic drill; you could _technically_ to it, but it'd be woefully ill-advised. Plus, the power was turned up too high; if it had missed, it would have blown a hole in the wall."

"How... how do you _know_ all of this?" Alan demanded angrily. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Glad you asked." The Doctor whipped the psychic paper out of his pocket and triumphantly displayed it to him. "Here's our identification."

"'UNIT Science Division, head of extraterrestrial liaisons?'" he read aloud. "So, what, you're the Men in Black?"

"We're in charge, is what we are. What we're going to do is stay here. We're stuck here for the time being, anyway. Keep together, don't let anyone out of your sight," the Doctor warned. "Safety in numbers."

"Er, Doctor, could I talk to you for a minute?" Clara asked him. He nodded, and stood there expectantly. There was a pause.

"Oh, come here," she sighed, grabbing him by his sleeve and tugging him over to a corner, letting the unhappy congregation start muttering on the other side of the hall. "We do have a spaceship, you know. Can't we just get everyone home via the TARDIS? We can use us as bait if we need to."

"She'll still be calibrating. Won't be ready for a few hours yet," her friend murmured. "Even if we could, there's two problems there. We may need their help to find the ship, once everyone's safe. And what if the alien's a shape changer?" he pointed. Clara looked down.

"I'd thought of that, I was just... hoping I was wrong," she sighed ruefully. Before they could theorise further, though, someone coughed beside them. Turning, they saw Mabel looking at them hopefully.

"I'm sorry, but you said you were from UNIT?" she quizzed, more confidently than Clara had yet seen her. The younger woman smiled.

"That's right, why do you ask?"

"Because-"

And then all of the lights went out.

Immediately, people started to panic. That was only exacerbated when someone (Alan, she thought, but she couldn't be sure) cried out "Something's got my leg!" That turned the panic into full scale uproar, and whilst she was still fumbling in her pocket to get the torch out and working, she could hear people stampeding out of the room.

"No, no! Stay together!" a familiar Scottish brogue bellowed, but by the time she'd gotten the torch on, she couldn't even see him. The foyer was completely empty but for her and Mabel, who was clinging to her sleeve.

A scream, just as chilling as the last one, rang through the air. The older woman was stuck to her so tightly she was starting to get pins and needles in her arm. She edged forwards cautiously.

"Doctor?" Suddenly, something grabbed her other arm. She cried out, stumbling away and dragging Mabel with her.

"Shut up, you idiot! It's me!" a voice hissed. Clara flashed the torch in its direction, illuminating the irritated face of Nora. "We should see if everyone else is alright."

Clara nodded, realised neither of her companions could likely see her and said "You're right." A little more confidently with two people by her, she walked to the doorway to the right of the stairs. They kept going for a minute, nervously calling out "Hello?" or people's names, when Clara spotted something in her torchbeam. She stopped abruptly, the other two women crashing into her back.

"Oh... no..." she whispered.

"What is it?" Frustrated, Nora craned her head around her to see what had brought them to a halt. "What... the hell?"

Propped up on the wall, with a small round hole where one of its eyes should have been, was an unmistakable red, rubbery shape.

"It's a Zygon," Clara breathed.

-0-

(a/n): Woo! Second chapter!

I'm only this far through, and I've already learnt a valuable lesson about fanfic writing; 'i know how it will begin and end and i have a vague outline of the rest so everything will be fine' is _not_ a sufficient plan. I meant to have this out last night, but a combination of a stressful week and having to rewatch snippets of "The Magician's Apprentice" and the Zygon two-parter to remember whether UNIT was reasonably public at this point delayed this a bit, so this is a little rushed. Speaking of which, this would take place at some point between said two-parter and "Sleep No More."

I know this chapter's a little slow, I just wanted to finish laying some foundations. Like I said, this is a little rushed, so your input and critique is even more invaluable! I'd like to thank those who read, followed, favourited and reviewed the last chapter, especially the latter, they were a great help. I _would_ have responded to the reviews, but I was too shy... :p

So, again, your criticism is super-important, and I'd love to know where I went wrong so I can improve. Thanks for reading, and 'til the next time!


End file.
